


nothing is impossible (with you)

by godofmorons



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Cysithea Week 2020, F/M, No Spoilers, Post-Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:43:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22980070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/godofmorons/pseuds/godofmorons
Summary: Marriage & Future, for Cysithea Week Day 7
Relationships: Cyril/Lysithea von Ordelia
Comments: 7
Kudos: 51





	nothing is impossible (with you)

**Author's Note:**

> [♫](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=onO-nB7UOmk)  
>  _No matter the low_  
>  _No matter the high_  
>  _My darling our love will_  
>  _Will never run dry_
> 
> thank you [ethereally](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ethereally) for stopping me from deleting this whole dang thing. you make me bappy.

Lysithea groans. “This is boring.”

Cyril looks up from his plate, idly chewing on his cake as he surveys their wedding reception.

Raphael and Caspar appear to be having some kind of pushup contest, while Leonie and Balthus are arm wrestling each other at a nearby table. Holst, who is almost certainly drunk, is switching between chanting both of their names as well as his own. Yuri and Ashe are sitting beside him, watching the competition and, if Cyril was to venture a guess, placing bets between the two of them on who was going to win.

Hilda and Annette are taking turns twirling each other across the dance floor, their dresses swirling around their legs as they move perfectly in time with the music. Claude and Marianne, in comparison, aren’t so much dancing as they are simply spinning in jubilant circles off to one side, their laughter carrying over the music and chatter. Nearby, Flayn is teaching Alois' daughter and Maya how to dance, the three of them giggling amongst themselves as they step on each others’ toes.

The Ordelias, Lorenz, and Ignatz all appear to be engaged in a lively conversation with each other, the former Count and Countess listening with interest to whatever Ignatz is saying. At the table next to theirs, Catherine and Manuela are in the middle of a drinking contest, with Alois laughing loudly as his wife returns with glasses of water in hand. Off to one side are Seteth and Hanneman, bickering over something or other again; even from where he’s sitting, Cyril can see the way Seteth’s eyebrow is twitching in irritation.

Boring isn’t the word Cyril would use to describe this chaos. This could only mean one thing: Lysithea is ready to leave.

He takes one last bite of cake, chewing slowly. “Shall we head out then?”

“Yes, please!” Lysithea is already on her feet, brushing out the skirts of her dress. “Should we say goodbye to everyone?”

Cyril picks up his jacket off the back of his chair, staring out across the tent with a thoughtful frown. “That would _probably_ be the polite thing to do, but that would also take us at least an hour.”

“Ugh, never mind.” Lysithea reaches out for Cyril’s hand, lacing their fingers together. (Cyril can’t help but stare, for a beat too long, at the ring on her finger.) “Let’s just go! We can write thank you notes after our honeymoon.”

“Sounds good to me.” He smiles, turning to lead the way out of an opening in the tent when--

“Leaving so soon?”

They both stop dead in their tracks, Cyril whirling around to find Shamir leaning up against a pole, watching them both with a quirked brow. Only the slight upturn at the corner of her lips indicates her amusement.

Cyril stands up a little straighter. “Hi Shamir, we were just--”

She lazily waves her hand at them, her gaze drifting back towards the party. “I won’t keep you. Go on. I’ll cover for you.”

Cyril blinks, stunned. He had half-expected her to lecture him on being sneakier. He relaxes and smiles again, grateful. “Thanks.”

She shrugs, still not making eye contact with him. “It’s the least I can do.”

Lysithea steps forward. “Shamir, could you please let my parents know that I’m alright?”

Shamir rolls her eyes now, her patience visibly waning. “Sure. You better hurry, before they realize you’re missing.”

Lysithea lets go of Cyril’s hand, closing the distance between herself and Shamir to wrap her arms around Shamir in a hug. “Thank you! For everything!”

Over the top of Lysithea’s head, Cyril can see the surprise that crosses Shamir’s face for an instant before she coughs, briskly patting Lysithea on the back. “Get going.”

Lysithea beams up at Shamir, before turning back around to take Cyril’s hand in her own once more. The two of them duck out of the tent, walking as quickly as Lysithea’s wedding gown will allow. There seem to be more stars in the sky tonight than Cyril has ever seen before.

He glances at Lysithea out of the corner of his eye. She, too, was looking up at the stars, a small smile on her lips as she followed his lead across the grass. Her hair, once the color of starlight, is now a light shade of lavender. Pinned to the top of her head is a crown and veil, made by Hilda out of amethysts, sapphires, and pearls.

Her eyes meet his, and she grins. “What is it?”

Cyril thinks of how once, he might have been embarrassed to be caught looking at her like this. Now, he merely smiles. “Nothing…” He pauses mid-step to press a kiss to the back of her hand, smiling impishly. “You just look so much like a princess right now, I can’t help but stare.”

“Oh, stop it you!” Lysithea laughs, but even in the dark Cyril can see her blush.

They walk together in silence after that, finally enjoying some time to themselves after a long day of being surrounded by people. Lysithea isn’t very social, Cyril even less so; the quiet moments they got to share together were something he had always treasured, and always will.

Lysithea breaks the quiet first, her voice soft even though it’s just the two of them and the stars above them. “Can you believe this is really happening?”

Cyril squeezes his hand around her fingers, chuckling low under his breath. “Not really. It feels like I’ve been walking through a dream all day.” He's still having a hard time believing this was all real, even now.

Lysithea squeezes his hand in return as she replies, quietly, “Yeah, me too.”

They finally reach the stables, and Cyril whistles to his wyvern. There’s a clatter and low whine from one of the stalls, and when Cyril glances in, he finds Spike staring back up at him. Ribbons and bows adorn his antlers, and Cyril sighs.

“Who do you think it was?” He asks as Lysithea steps up beside him, giggling at the sight.

“My money's on either Annette or Claude. Maybe both.”

Cyril sighs again, shaking his head before opening the stall door. It’ll only take him a few minutes to tack Spike; he and Lysithea will have to stop by their rooms first to grab their things, and then--

“Hey Cyril.” He looks up from the saddle he just strapped to Spike’s back, his eyebrows raised. Lysithea stands in the doorway, her eyes trained on Spike. “Thank you. For waiting for me.”

Ah.

Cyril finishes putting the harness on before walking back towards her. She finally looks up at him, her eyes searching his. He smiles as he leans in to press their foreheads together. “I would have waited forever for you. You know that, right?”

Lysithea smiles up at him. “Of course! And I would have done the same for you, too.”

“I know.” Cyril kisses her gently on the lips before pulling away. “Shall we?”

“Yes,” Lysithea squeezes his hand. “Let’s go!”

-

_After the wedding, Cyril and Lysithea traveled around the world together for their honeymoon. Once they returned home to Fódlan, Cyril received countless letters of invitation from the King of Almyra. After months of deliberation, he finally agreed to become the Captain of the Immortal Corps. Lysithea joined him in Almyra as a scholar in one of the capital’s universities. She became so renowned for her breakthroughs that people traveled from as far as Dagda just to sit in on her lectures. Lysithea’s first book,_ On the Theory of Time Magic, _was dedicated to her husband, Cyril, who she said was “my greatest editor, and the one who makes me bappiest.”_

**Author's Note:**

> bonus: the wedding takes place during the garland moon because lysithea wanted a summer wedding; coincidentally, cyril wore a garland of white roses during the ceremony that lysithea made for him herself.


End file.
